Marcus Deadly Class 소설 & 이야기

********* Amidst the shadows that envelop the barnhouse, Marco De Luca arrives with an air of authority, determined to extinguish the supposed threat posed by Daren. His steps echo with a lethal rhythm, resonating the impending confrontation. "Where is he?" Marco's voice cuts through the tense silence as he addresses one of his goons, his gaze piercing the room. "He's tied in that corner," Vinny replies, pointing towards an ominous darkness. “Guardia bene," Marco commands, a subtle flick of his fingers. Vinny, a close ally in Marco's trusted circle, stations two tough guys outside the barn, ready to guard against any unexpected trouble.

“That was only going to kill him. Maybe parts of you, but only small parts. Tiny little parts that would have also rejoiced in the bloodshed. Sure, Sweet Marie would have died, but Bloodthirsty Marie would have been born. And it would have been something . . . desirable. Something you wanted. Like putting your jaws to a bleeding throat. But this? This will kill all of you. It will kill your soul.” “I don’t care about my soul. I want to know if it will work.” “Don’t do it. Please don’t do it.” If he carried storms in his eyes, she carried desolation in hers. “Don’t you understand that I’m already dead?” “Marie.” “What else can be taken from me? You tell me that. What else can they take?” Lyle

"Who’s moving faster?" My breath caught when he told me everything, eyes widening. I needed to inform my father immediately. The entire wolf line was at risk. what he told me explained the missing werewolves from the other pack and the insider problem Jeremy had warned me about. The witches... the witchers were involved. They were raising the dead. They’d been capturing werewolves, killing them, and infusing them with dark magic to bring them back—along with vampires, making a unilateral army. Those were the creatures I fought in my pack, the horde who had attacked me. That’s why their blood was black, cause they were rotten. The thought of reanimating the dead without a soul, trapping them,

“He had that scar.” Silence filled the room. Dominic turned back to the screen, fingers flying over the console. “That’s not possible.” The system hummed as he cross-referenced data—height, gait, shoulder width, reaction time. The analysis took longer than usual, the cursor stalling as if reluctant. Then a file surfaced. MARCUS VAIL Status: Deceased Former Position: Hale Security Division Lead Cause: Classified—Internal Containment Lila felt cold spread through her limbs. “Deceased?”

I asked. Marcus cleared his throat. “They were scum. I do not take lives lightly, but I enjoyed ending those three. I did the human race a favor when I slit their filthy fucking throats.” A wave of dizziness washed over me. “You—you killed them?”

Marcus walked over to a wooden workbench and picked up a sleek, semi-automatic pistol, racking the metal slide back with a loud, sharp *clack-clack* before he set it down right in front of me. "Listen, I won't take any unseriousness from you, Jane," Marcus said, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a deadpan expression as he leaned his hip against the table. "Let's get straight to business. If you mess around in my kitchen, you get burned, and if you mess around with this, people die." "I am not playing games, Marcus," I said, stepping closer to him, that the tips of my boots almost touched his leather shoes, while my eyes tracked the broad width of his chest under his tight gray shirt. "Ple

“Who’d cook for you, Ms. Storm? I can’t let you starve.” “The birthday girl gets what she wants,” Logan interjects in a surprisingly kind tone. “Take the vacation, Marcus. Fully paid. You’ve earned it.” Marcus and I both freeze in stunned silence. “Really? I get whatever I want?” I blurt out, half-joking, half-hopeful. Logan narrows his eyes, regret flashing across his face as he realizes his mistake. I grin evilly. “Within reason.”

The holding pen of the Crucible was heavy with the stench of sweat, ozone, and dried blood. Marcus sat on the rusted iron bench, his massive shoulders rising and falling in a slow, controlled rhythm. He had just survived his first round in the Death Game. He had let the giant, Participant 42, shatter his own bones against the invisible Non-Newtonian Kinetic Shield. Marcus had generated enough power for the city without throwing a single punch. He looked down at his taped hands. He was ready to fight his way to the power core. He was ready to tear the Silver Spire down from the roots.

He said gently, "Sadie, let the past die with yesterday. From now on, you will be reborn anew. I hope your days from here on will be filled with joy." Standing on the rooftop, Nemera raised her champagne glass, clinking it against his before drinking it all in one breath. "Now, I have only one regret left," Nemera said softly. "What is it?" Noah asked. Nemera looked at him with a strange smile. "Well, my regret is… that you're still alive." "What did you say?" Noah's eyes widened. Suddenly, he clutched his head and dropped to his knees. "How's the champagne with a little something extra?" she asked sweetly.

“Don’t tell the other Elders. They’re such sissies that they may decide to cancel the Council meeting. We need to get all those members here so I can tell one way or another if the rumours of this war are true.” That, Marcus believed. His father had a way of sniffing out lies—his one true gift, and the reason Marcus had never lied to him before. He hadn’t been caught already because Alessandro had been distracted. Marcello DeLuca, the most loyal vampire to ever walk the earth. The perfect soldier. What a joke that was, now. Alessandro sighed, surveying the destruction. “I need someone to clean this up.”